MAN must be pleased; but him to please Is woman's pleasure; down the gulf Of his condoled necessities She casts her best, she flings herself. How often flings for nought, and yokes Her heart to an icicle or whim, Whose each impatient word provokes Another, not from her, but him; While she, too gentle even to force His penitence by kind replies, Waits by, expecting his remorse, With pardon in her pitying eyes; And if he once, by shame oppress'd, A comfortable word confers, She leans and weeps against his breast, And seems to think the sin was hers; And whilst his love has any life, Or any eye to see her charms, At any time, she's still his wife, Dearly devoted to his arms; She loves with love that cannot tire; And when, ah woe, she loves alone, Through passionate duty love springs higher, As grass grows taller round a stone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT NIGHT; SONNET by AMY LOWELL THE LOVER PLEADS WITH HIS FRIENDS FOR OLD FRIENDS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS A POISON TREE, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SIMON THE CYRENIAN SPEAKS by COUNTEE CULLEN A SAD, SAD STORY by MOTHER GOOSE THE DEATH OF LYON by HENRY PETERSON SPRING, 1916 by ISAAC ROSENBERG |